A Boy, Not a Man
by RedKatana
Summary: Shang wonders what he should do about Ping.


Pitiful.

Shang shook his head as he entered his tent, muscles stiff, weary. Gradually his tension vanished while in his sanctuary, his sole solace from insanity. He dropped onto the ground, his head in his hands, praying to his ancestors for strength, patience, and wisdom.

Shang had just finished training his troops for the day and, well…

He never met a more pathetic group of 'men'.

Captain Shang wondered if this was a punishment for something ages ago. Perhaps something he did in his childhood? He couldn't imagine what could have been horrible enough for _this_. Shang felt disgraced when he was near his men.

The worst, however, was Ping.

Shang didn't know what was wrong with the boy ( _boy_ , not _man_. _Boy_. He was not an adult). He couldn't complete his training and tried cheating at every opportunity, even at archery. Archery, of all things! Shang sighed. He didn't know what was the worst part. Was it the boy's inadequate swordplay and archery? The lack of techniques in everything he did (how did the great Fa Zhou fail him so badly? Was Ping a bastard his father recently learned of? It seemed like the only logical conclusion and it'd also explain why no one ever heard of him or why Fa Zhou never mentioned Ping.)? His cheating? The dumb, random, and useless questions he asked (who cared where the birds headed? They were at war, damn it!)?

Or, perhaps, it was the fact that he clearly wasn't a man.

Sure, Shang knew that from the beginning; it was obvious enough. That whole 'manly' fiasco he put out when he arrived proved only one thing: he was a child. Not only a child, but one who didn't understand what manhood meant (manly urges? Just gotta kill something? Ha! The spitting was the best part, though.). He was simply a kid wanting to be seen as tough, respectable, manly.

He was none of those and, quite frankly, Shang believed any woman would be better.

The Captain ran a hand through his hair, thinking as he reached for his ponytail. He hesitated, eyes on his wall as a thought struck him. Perhaps he should send the boy home? Sure, it would be shameful for the kid (but not for him and, even if it was, any disgrace would be preferable), but that was better than guaranteed death. At least he would be able to start a family, a legacy. He couldn't whip this boy into shape, he could admit it to himself. And, apparently, he lied; he couldn't make a man out of him and it was an impossible goal.

Shang sat there, doing nothing but stare at his hand, his mind almost completely blank. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, enjoying the almost complete silence. The only thing he could hear was the slight rustling of branches outside like faint, wooden wind chimes. He closed his eyes, focusing on the sound.

It.. It was nice. It was nice hearing something so simple, so natural, so quiet, so peaceful, so enjoyable. This was something he'd hardly had since he started training his men.

Avoiding the subject. He knew he was doing it, that he shouldn't escape his problems. He didn't want to think about his problems, and he certainly didn't want to face his men tomorrow. Eyes on his tent's exit, he wondered about his father's military experiences (did he ever deal with someone like Ping?); and grudging admitted to himself that Chi Fu was right. Perhaps his father should have chosen someone more experienced.

It didn't matter though. He had a problem that needed to be dealt with it. No way to get around, either.

He would send the boy back home. It was the best solution despite how desperately they needed troops and it would solve his worst problems.

Captain Shang stood, dreading the conversation he was about to have.

As he headed outside his tent, he noticed how deathly quiet it had gotten outside. There were no rusting trees, no sounds from fauna, and it seemed like time had slowed to a crawl. It almost seemed like he was the only person alive or that time had stopped solely for him. Deflated, he couldn't help but feel like that took its toll on his already troubled state; he felt older.


End file.
